The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence by E. F. Benson
CHAPTER II
THE COMING OF NICHOLAS VIDALIS
An hour later, Mitsos, having found his shoe and eaten his dinner indecency, was curled up in the shady corner of the veranda fast asleep.He had been out fishing most of the night before, and as the harvestwas over there was no work on hand except to water the vines when thesun was off the vineyard, which would not be before four. He slept, ashis father said, like a dog--that is to say, he curled himself up andfell into a light sleep, from which any noise would arouse him--as soonas he shut his eyes.
He was an enormous boy, of the Greek country type, close on the edgeof manhood, with black, curly hair coming down onto his shoulders,straight, black eyebrows, long, black eyelashes, and black eyes. Hisnose was short and square-tipped, his mouth the fine, scornful mouthof his race, quick to reflect the most passing shades of emotion.His hands and face were of that inimitable color for which sun,wind, and rain are the sole cosmetic--a particularly soft, clearbrown, shading off a little round the eyes and under the hair. As heslept, with his head thrown back, there showed on his neck the sharpline where the tanning ended and the whiter skin began. He had thatout-door appearance which is the inheritance of those whose fathersand grandfathers have lived wholesomely in the open air from sunriseto sunset all their lives, and who have followed the same course oflife themselves. He had kicked off his shoes again, and his hands wereclasped behind his head, and what would at once characterize him to anyone who was acquainted with the Greek peasant race was that both handsand feet were clean.
He slept for a couple of hours, and was awakened by the pale,dust-ridden sunshine creeping round the corner of the veranda andfalling on his head. At first he rolled over again with his face to thewall, but in a few moments, realizing the uselessness of temporizing,he got up and stretched himself lazily and luxuriously, with acavernous yawn. Then he went round to the stone fountain which stood atthe back of the house and plunged his head into the bright cool waterto finish the process of awakening, and, seeing that the tall shade ofthe poplar had stretched its length across the vineyard, took up hisspade and went off to his work.
The stream, which passed through their garden and out into the baybelow, ran for some half-mile along a little raised aqueduct, banked upwith earth to keep it to its course. It passed between small vineyardplots on each side, so that the water could be turned into them forirrigation, and Mitsos went out of the garden gate straight into theirvineyard, which lay just above.
Each of the vines stood in its several little artificial hollow dug inthe ground, and he first cleared the water-channels in the vineyard ofall accumulated rubbish and soil, so that, when he let the stream in,it might flow to all the trees. Having done this, he went back to theaqueduct and removed a spadeful of earth from the bank, which he placedin the bed of the stream itself, stamping it down to keep it firm, sothat the whole of the water was diverted into the vineyard. Standing,as he did, a few feet above the surface of the vines, he could see whenthe water had reached them all, and then, hooking out his temporary damfrom the bed of the stream, he replaced it, so as to again send thewater back into its channel; then, jumping down, he hoed away roundthe roots of the vines, so that the water might sink well in close tothem, for there had been no rain for weeks, and they must be thoroughlywatered.
The sun was off the land, but it was still very hot, for the siroccohad increased in violence and was sweeping over the fields like theblast from the pit. On the windward side of the trees the dark richgreen of the vine-leaves was powdered over with the fine white dustdriven up from the bare, harvested fields. Mitsos stopped now and thento wipe the sweat off his forehead, but otherwise he worked hard andcontinuously, singing to himself the peasant song of the vine-diggers.
His work was nearly over when he saw his father coming towards him. Thelatter stood for a moment on the edge of the bank, looking at what theboy had been doing.
"Poor little Mitsos," he said, "you have had to work alone to-day! Iwas obliged to go into Nauplia. You have watered the vines very well.You have finished, have you not?"
"There are three more vines here," said Mitsos, "which are yet to bedug. But it won't take long."
His father stepped down into the vineyard.
"You can go and rest," he said. "I'll finish those."
Mitsos threw down his spade.
"Oh, it is hotter than hell!" he said. "Uncle Nicholas will be roastedcoming across the plain."
"He will want a bath," said Constantine. "Do you remember his makinga bath last year out of those spare planks? I suppose it holds waterstill?"
"I wish it didn't hold so much," said Mitsos; "it holds six cans."
Constantine laughed.
"And Mitsos' back will ache, eh?"
"I hope not; but it is a great affair to carry six cans of water fromthe fountain."
Constantine worked on for half an hour or so, while Mitsos looked on.
"There, that is finished," he said, at last. "You won't go fishingto-night, will you? The wind is too strong."
"It may go down at sunset," said Mitsos; "but there are enough fish forto-night and to-morrow night, unless this hot weather turns them. But Iput them in the cellar in water, and I expect they will keep."
They walked back together, but as soon as they got onto the road theysaw that three mules were standing opposite the house. Constantinequickened his pace.
"Nicholas must have come," he said. "He was ever quicker than a mancould expect. Come, Mitsos."
The veranda was full of boxes and rugs, and the two went through intothe house. A man was sitting on a low chair by the window. As they camein he got up.
"Well, Constantine," he said, "how is all with you? I have just come.And Mitsos, little Mitsos is growing still. I will give you a hundredpiastres when you are as tall as your father. It is the devil's ownday, Constantine, and I am full inside and out of this gritty wind. Manis not a hen that he should sit all day in the dust. May I have a bathat once? Mitsos, we made a bath together. The mule men will help you tofill it."
He laid his hand on Mitsos' shoulder.
"You look fitter than a mountain hawk," he said. "Get me plenty ofwater, and give me ten minutes of scouring, and then we will talktogether while I dress."
Mitsos left the room, and Constantine turned to his brother-in-law."Well?" he asked.
"He is a fine boy," said Nicholas; "I must see if he can be trusted."
"A Turk would trust him," said his father, eagerly.
"Ha! we shall not require that. But in the face of fear?"
Constantine laughed.
"He does not know what fear is."
"Then he has that to learn," said Nicholas, "for the bravest menlearn that best. No one can be brave until he has known the cold fearclutching at the stomach. However, we shall see."
Nicholas was dressed like Constantine, in Albanian costume, with awoollen cloak thrown over one shoulder, a red embroidered jacket, cutvery low and open, showing the shirt, a long fustanella and whiteleggings, tied with tasselled ends. He was tall and spare, and his faceseemed the face of a man of forty who had lived very hard, or of a manof fifty who had lived very carefully. In reality he was nearly sixty.He was clean shaven and very pale in complexion, as one who had neverlived an out-door life; but you might have been led to reject such aconclusion, if you remarked the wonderful clearness and freshness ofhis skin. His eyes looked out from deep under a broad bar which crossedhis forehead from temple to temple; they were large and dark gray incolor, and gathered additional depth from his thick black eyebrows.His nose was finely chiselled, tending to aquiline, with thin, curvednostrils, which seemed never still, but expanded and contracted withthe movement of the nostrils of some well-bred horse snuffing somedisquieting thing. His mouth was ascetically thin-lipped, but firm andclean cut. His hair, still thick and growing low on his forehead andlong behind, was barely touched with gray above the temples. His headwas set very straight and upright on a rather long neck, supportedon two well-drilled shoulders. In
"I have travelled from Corinth to-day," he continued, "and there ismuch to tell you. At last the Club of Patriots have put the Moreaentirely into my hands. I have leave to use the funds as I think fit,and it is I who shall say the word for the vintage of the Turks tobegin. Are there men here whom you can trust, or are they all mule-folkand chatterers?"
"The main are mule-folk," said Constantine.
"The mule-folk can be useful," remarked Nicholas; "but the man whotravels with a mule to show the way goes a short journey. They followwhere they are led, but some one has to lead. But is there not a priesthere--Father Andrea, I think--with a trumpet for a voice? I should liketo see him. As far as I remember, he talked too much, yet you would notcall him a chatterer."
"He curses the Turk in the name of God three times a day," saidConstantine. "It is a vow."
"And little harm will the Turk suffer from that. Better that he shouldlearn to bless them, or best to keep a still tongue. Well, littleMitsos, is the bath ready? You will excuse me, Constantine, but I am anuneasy man when I am dirty. Come to my room in ten minutes, Mitsos, andtell me of yourself."
"There is little to tell," said Mitsos.
"We will hope, then, that it is all good. By the way, Constantine, Ihave brought some wine with me. Mitsos will drop it into the fountain,for it must be tepid. Tepid wine saps a man's self-respect, and if aman, or a boy either, doesn't respect himself, Mitsos, nobody will everrespect him."
Mitsos followed him out of the room with his eyes, and then turned tohis father.
"My hands are so dirty from that vine-digging," he whispered. "Do youthink Uncle Nicholas saw?"
"He sees everything," said his father. "Wash, then, before you go up tohis room."
Mitsos adored his uncle Nicholas with a unique devotion, for Nicholaswas a finer make of man than any he had ever seen. He had been toforeign countries, a feat only attainable by sailing for weeks in bigships. He had been able to talk to some French sailors who had oncebeen wrecked, within Mitsos' memory, on the coast near, and understandwhat they said, though no one in the place, not even the mayor, coulddo that; indeed the latter, before Nicholas had interpreted, roundlyasserted that they spoke as sparrows speak. Then Uncle Nicholas wasconstantly going on mysterious journeys and turning up again when hewas least expected, but always welcome; and he had a wonderfully low,soft voice, as unlike as possible to the discordant throats of thecountry folk; and he had long, muscular hands and pink nails. Also hecould shoot wild pigeon when they were flying, whereas the utmost thatthe mayor's son, who was the acknowledged Nimrod of the neighborhood,could do, was to shoot them if they were walking about. Even then hecould only hit them for certain if there were several of them togetherand he got very close. Also Uncle Nicholas was omniscient: he knewthe names of all birds and plants; he could imitate a horse's neighso well that a grazing beast would leave its fodder and come to hisvoice; and once when Mitsos was laid up with the fever he had pickedsome common-looking leaves from the hedge and boiled them in water, andgiven him the water to drink, the effect of which was that next morninghe awoke quite well. Above all, Nicholas told the most enchantingstories about what he had seen at the ends of the earth.
So Mitsos washed his hands and went up to Nicholas's room, finding himalready bathed and half dressed. His dusty clothes lay on the floor,and he pointed to them as Mitsos came in.
"I shall be here four days at the least," he said, "and I want thesewashed before I go away. The most important thing in the world is to beclean, Mitsos."
"Father Andrea says--" began the boy.
"Well, what does Father Andrea say?"
"He says that to love God and hate the devil--I think he means theTurk--is the most important thing."
"Well, Father Andrea is right. But you must remember that I am righttoo. Sit you in the window, Mitsos, and talk to me. What have you beendoing since I was here?"
"Looking after the vines," said Mitsos, "since the reaping was over.And I go fishing very often, almost every night."
"Then to-morrow we will go together; to-night I have much to say toyour father."
"Will you really come with me?" asked the boy. "And will you tell mesome more stories?"
"Yes, I have a new set of stories, which you shall hear--I want to knowwhat you will think of them. How old are you?"
"Eighteen, nineteen in November; and my mustache is coming."
Nicholas turned the boy's face round to the light.
"Yes, an owner's eye might detect something. Why do you want amustache?"
"Because men have mustaches."
"And you want to be a man," said Nicholas; "but a man makes hismustache, not his mustache the man. But before we go down I have onething to say to you, a thing you must never forget: if a Turk ever asksyou if you know aught about me, where I am, or where I may be going,you must always say you know nothing. Say you have not set eyes on mefor more than a year. Do you understand? That must be your answer andno other."
"I understand, just that I have not seen you for a year, and knownothing about you."
"Yes. Whatever happens, do you think you can always answer that and nomore? I may as well tell you that if you answer more than that, if,when you are questioned--I do not say you will ever be questioned, butyou may be--you tell them where I am, or whether I am expected here, oranything of the kind, you will perhaps be killing me as surely as ifyou shot me this moment with my own gun. Do you promise?"
"Of course, I promise," said Mitsos, with crisp, boyish petulance.
"And should they threaten to kill you if you do not tell them?"
"Why do you ask me?" he said. "I have made the promise."
Nicholas laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and with a flashingeye--"And, by God, I believe you are one to keep it!" he said.
The sirocco blew itself out during the night, and a light north windhad taken its place when day dawned. A smell extraordinarily clean wasin the air, and the whole sky was brisk with the sparkling air of thesouth. Northwards from Nauplia the sharp mountainous outlines of theArgive hills were cut out clear against the pale cobalt of the heavens,glowing pink in the sunrise, and all their glens and hollows werebrimmed with bluest shadow. To the west, a furlong away, the waters ofthe bay gleamed with a transparent, aqueous tint; you would have saidthat two skies had been melted together to make the sea. Beyond, thehills over which the Turkish road to Tripoli wound like a climbing,yellow snake, lay still in darkness. The lower slopes were covered withpines; above, the bare, gray stone climbed up, shoulder by shoulder,to meet the sky. By degrees, as the sun rose higher, the light struckfirst the tops, and flowed caressingly down from peak to spur, and spurto slope, till it reached the lower rounded hills at the base, and thenflashed across the bay and the plain of Argos. There it caught firstthe tawny fortress walls of the citadel which kept guard over the town,then the town itself which clustered round its base, until suddenlyfrom Constantine's house the sun swung over the rim of the hills to thenortheast, and the whole plain leaped from shadow into light.
There had been a heavy dew during the night, and the close-reapedcornfields were a loom of gossamer webs, hanging pearly and iridescentbetween the stubble-stalks, and in the vineyards the upper surface ofthe broad, strong leaves was wet and shining, as if with a fresh coatof indescribable green. In that first moment of light and heat all theodors of flowering plants, grafted on the wholesome smell of moistearth, which had been hanging as if asleep close to the ground allnight, rose and dispersed themselves in the air. A breath of wind shookthe web of sweet smell out of the mimosa trees that grew at the gateof Constantine's garden, and sent it spreading and shifting like thegossamers in the fields on to the veranda, and in at the open windows.The border of wild thyme by the porch trembled like a row of finesteel springs as the wind passed over it, and gave out its offeringof incense to the morning. A sparrow lit on a spray of rose and flewoff again, scatteri
During the morning Mitsos was chiefly employed in making coffee, formany of the leading Greeks, to whom the secret of the imminent uprisingwas known, came from Nauplia to see Nicholas, and to each must beoffered a cup of Turkish coffee. Nicholas sat in the veranda with hisnarghile, which he smoked without intermission, and he appeared tobe giving instructions to his visitors. Among the first to come wasFather Andrea, whom he treated with great respect. When he rose to go,Nicholas accompanied him as far as the back gate, which led into afield path towards his house, and Mitsos, who was washing cups at thefountain screened behind bushes, heard them go by talking.
As they parted he heard Nicholas say, "Above all, be silent. We shallwant you to talk later, and to talk then with the full voice. Atpresent a word overheard might ruin everything, and the devil himselfscarcely knows when he is being overheard. Even now Mitsos, whom younever noticed, but whom I noticed, knows all I say to you. Mitsos, comehere."
Mitsos came, cup in hand, flushed and angry.
"You are not fair to me, Uncle Nicholas," he said. "I was notlistening. I could not help hearing."
"No, little one, I am not blaming you," said Nicholas; "I only wantedFather Andrea to see. That is an instance to hand, father; please letthere not be more. And here is my offering to the Christ and to mypatron saint for having brought me here safely."
Nicholas was punctual to his promise to Mitsos, and soon after sunsetthey went off together to where the boat was lying. Mitsos carried acouple of big pewter ladles, a bag full of resin, a wicker creel forthe fish, and two spears, while Nicholas walked on a little ahead withthe net wound round his shoulders. They were to begin the evening'swork with the spears, and later when the moon was up to sail across thefar side of the bay, where they would use the sweep-net in the shallowwater, where the bottom was sandy and shelving. But the nearer shore ofthe bay was rocky, descending rapidly into deep water, and was no placefor netting. Nicholas, however, got into the boat in order to arrangethe net and dispose the lead in what he considered a more satisfactorymanner, leaving the boy to do the spearing alone.
Mitsos took off his linen trousers, fastening his shirt round his waistwith a leather belt. He then slung the creel and the bag round hisneck, and putting a half handful of resin into the ladle, set light toit, took the spear in his right hand, and rolling up his sleeves to theshoulder, stepped into the sea. He held the flare close to the surface,so that its light showed clearly on the bottom of the shallow water, aluminous lure for the fish. The spear he held ready to bring down if hesaw anything.
It was a scene which Rembrandt would have painted with the hand oflove. The moon was not yet risen, but in the clear starlight theedges of the serrated hills were sharply etched against the sky, andthe water of the bay, just curdled by the wind, lay vast and sombreacross to the farther shore. The light from the resin-flare vaguelyshowed the lines of the boat in which Nicholas was preparing the net,but all was dim except Mitsos' figure and a few feet of glittering,flame-scribbled water round him. The highest light was cast on hisbrown down-bent face and on his left arm bared to the shoulder, whichstood out as clear-cut as a cameo against the darkness behind, and ashe moved, the water, which lapped about his knees, was stirred intofire-crested ripples. The sea was slightly phosphorescent, and histrail was palely luminous like the Milky Way. Now and again, with asudden splendid motion, down went the poised spear with a splashingcluck into the sea, and he would draw it up again, sometimes with ared mullet, sometimes with a thin brill flapping and struggling on thepoint. More rarely he missed his aim, and looked up at Nicholas smilingand showing his white teeth.
At the end of half an hour the latter had finished his fresh leadingof the net, and as a stiffer breeze had awoke, ruffling the surfaceof the water and making it difficult to see the fish distinctly, theystarted to sail across the bay. Mitsos waded out to the boat, trousersand shoes in hand, set the big brown sail, and giving a vigorous shoveor two with the oar sent the boat round so that it caught the wind. Ina moment it heeled over without stirring, and then the whisper of itsmoving came sibilantly from the forefoot, and gathering speed it glidedon across the dark water.
Nicholas had taken the rudder, and Mitsos sat down beside him.
"Eight mullet and a dozen other fish," he said. "That is no bad catchfor half an hour. Put her head for under that point, Uncle Nicholas. Doyou see it? There is a house with a light burning a little above it."
"I see. It will take nearly an hour with this wind. Well, what is it?"
"Will you tell me some of the new stories, Uncle Nicholas?"
"No, we will keep the stories for when we go home. It will take ustwice as long to get back against this wind. They are long stories."
For nearly an hour they sailed on in comparative silence; the wind hadfreshened, and from over the hills towards Tripoli there came blinkingflashes of summer lightning. The lamp in the house above the point towhich they were steering had been put out, but in the half-darkness ofthe summer night the promontory itself was clearly visible. Towards theeast the hills were blocked out with a strange intensity of blackness,for the moon was on the point of rising behind them, and the deepvelvet blue of the zenith had turned to dove-color.
"Now for our fishing, Mitsos," said Nicholas, as they drew near to theshore. "Can we run the boat in behind the promontory?"
"Yes, there is four feet of water right up to the land. Just there theshore is steep. I will take in the sail."
"There is no need. As soon as we pass the corner it will be dead calm."
Nicholas put the helm hard to port as soon as they were opposite thelittle point; next moment the sail flapped like a wounded bird againstthe mast, and they ran up to the rocks. Mitsos jumped out and tied theboat up.
They lifted the net on shore, and made their way round the woodedheadland to the little bays which they were to fish. Here the shore wassandy and shelving, and sprinkled with clumps of succulent seaweedwhich grew up from the rocks below, a favorite feeding ground, asMitsos knew, for mullet and sole. Nicholas had put on Constantine'slong fishing-boots, reaching up to his hips, before he left the boat,Mitsos, as before, merely taking off his shoes and trousers.
The net was some twenty-five yards long, and Mitsos, taking one endinto his hand, stepped into the water at right angles to the shore.He waded out till the net was taut between them, and then Nicholasfollowed. As soon as the latter was some ten yards from land they bothmoved shorewards up the little bay, which lay in front of them, gettinggradually nearer to each other as they approached the beach, tillwhen they were within five or six yards of the land they were walkingtogether, the net trailing in a great bagging oval behind them. Theresistance of the water, the dragging of the lead along the bottom,and, it was to be hoped, the spoils enclosed made no small weight,and it was a quarter of an hour or so before they got it in. The moonhad risen, and it was easy to see the silvery glitter of the fish asthey lay fluttering in the dark meshes of the net. The flat, brownsoles, however, required a more careful search, and the sound of theirflapping, rather than the eye, led to their discovery.
They fished for an hour or two with only moderate success, until Mitsosproposed they should try a little farther down the coast, where shoalsof a certain fish, as small as the whitebait, and as sweet, grazed thewatery pastures. Here the depth was somewhat greater, and before goingin Mitsos divested himself of his shirt, leaving it on the rocks, andwent in completely naked. Nicholas, who had put himself entirely underhis directions, waited in the shallower water near the shore till theboy had waded out to where the water covered him to the waist; then, asbefore, they moved in converging lines towards the shore.
They had approached to within about twenty yards of the beach, andwithin about five yards of each other, when Mitsos stopped and pointedback. The upper edge of the net, fitted at intervals with corks to keepit floating, was visible on the bright surface of the sea, trailing inan irregular oval. But inside this oval th
"Look," he said to Nicholas, "the little fish are there. We must be asquick as we can. Sometimes if the shoal begins jumping they will alljump out."
And bending forward to get his whole weight into the work, he pushedforward towards the land.
The moonlight fell full on his body, dripping and glistening from thewaist downwards with the salt water, and threw the straining muscleswhich line the spine, and those chords behind the shoulder-blade whichpainters love, into strong light and shadow, as he pulled against theweight of the dragging net. Already the water came only to his knees,and the catch was imminent, when suddenly from the net there came arustle and a splash like myriad little pebbles being thrown into thesea, and he turned round just in time to see the whole shoal, whichglistened like a silver sheet, rise and drop into the water outside.
"The little Turks," he said, angrily, "they are all gone."
"Better to pull the net in and look," said Nicholas; "a part only mayhave leaped."
Mitsos shook his head.
"When they go like that it is all of them," he said.
Mitsos was quite right. There was a stray fish or two still in the net,but so few that they were hardly worth picking out.
"That will do for to-night, won't it?" he said. "We have fished all thebest places."
Nicholas assenting, he lay down and rolled over in the warm, dry sandonce or twice, and then standing up brushed the wet stuff off his body.Then spreading the net out on the rocks higher up on the beach, Mitsoswent off to fetch his shirt. Nicholas employed himself in picking up afew stray fish, and put them into the creel. Then rolling up the netthey walked back to the boat.